


Jump Inn

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Chatting & Messaging, Future Fic, M/M, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-14
Updated: 2006-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan goes virtual bar-hopping</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump Inn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Chat Room](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/102908) by Pat T. 



> Much thanks to sherrold and elynross for their wonderful beta work. This story was written for the ["HL_Remix"](http://www.livejournal.com/community/hl_remix/) community's Valentine's Day challenge.

A natural gas fire burned blue in the lobby fireplace, and Dani, the manager, had set out both a pot of coffee and a Crock-pot full of hot cider. Duncan poured himself one of the tiny cups of cider, his fingers red and damp where the gloves hadn't protected them. His thighs were freezing from biking the last five miles home in a rainy mist. He sniffed at the cup contentedly, the scent of it warming him right up. 

"Good trip?" Dani called from the open office door. 

"But cold." Duncan raised the cup to him. "This really hits the spot." 

With a smile, Dani pushed his hair out of his face. "We have happy hour Friday afternoons, you know. You should come down sometime. Socialize with the neighbors."

"I'm really not that sociable." Grabbing his mail from the lockbox next to the office door, Duncan shook his head. "Maybe some other time."

"Hmm. That's what you said last month, too." With a sigh, Dani patted his arm and turned back to the office.

Duncan glanced at the back of his head and frowned. Maybe Dani was right. He spent a lot of time cooped up in his apartment; maybe he needed to get out more.

He sighed. The thought wasn't very appealing, and anyway, he didn't have time to meet new people. Between studying nanometrics at the community college and running an antique restoration business, he was much too busy... 

He rubbed a hand over his face, knowing a lie when he told it. Face it, he thought, you still miss Methos. He wasn't really interested right now in the song-and-dance of dating and getting to know someone new. He finished off the last of the cider and shivered. What you're interested in is a shower, he told himself firmly. 

But thoughts of Methos and water led to memories of wet Methos, and showers that led to sex and then to more showers...

Shoving his mail under his arm, he pushed his bike toward the elevator, cider in one hand. The elevator was large and roomy, and it reminded him of his old loft. The building had once been a warehouse, but it had been converted into apartments fifty years ago, in the early nineties, as part of the Hong Kong emigrant housing boom. 

Outside his apartment, he threw the empty cup into one of the recycling bins stashed in the hallway, then unlocked the door to his place, pushing his bike into the living room to put away later. As he tossed the mail on the dining room table, he noticed an ad for an adult chat room called "Jump Inn" lying on top.

His mouth quirked up in a dirty smile as he considered the stylized image of two shapes pressing intimately against each other, along with the catchphrase "Meet the lover you always wanted." He tapped his fingers against the paper, noting the virtual address.

Well, he didn't want to go out and look for a partner, but staying home and finding one....hmmm. It was worth a second thought.

Duncan seldom interfaced with the apartment's built-in jump chamber -- he preferred to visit people in person, and he'd tried enough addictive substances in his life to take the 'wirehead' warnings seriously -- but he found a couple of the worlds interesting. He stayed away from most of the historical setups -- inaccurate costumes and settings, food and drink that tasted wrong, and adventure quests that were less terrifying than biking to work each day -- but there was a 1920's era speakeasy that he rather enjoyed. It reminded him a bit of Joe's place back in Paris.

When the technology took off in the forties, he'd done virtual Amsterdam and toured several adult sites -- virtually every man on the planet had tried them at least once -- but he still thought the slide of real skin on skin, the tastes and scent of sex, were far more exciting than anything that the interface suit could produce. He had one of the best interface suits on the market, but it just couldn't recreate an actual lover's touch.

Still, he was in a mood, restless and wanting. All day he'd seen things that reminded him of Methos, and grown more and more frustrated with himself for not being able to drop it. They were in one of their 'off again' periods, with Methos living in Barcelona while Duncan had moved to San Diego, but it wasn't the living arrangements that kept them apart. Duncan couldn't even remember what their last argument had been about, only that it had resulted in cold anger and empty beds for the past several months. Methos had been upset enough to take everything with him this time; he hadn't left as much as an old book lying around as a promise that he would come back.

Actually, that wasn't quite true. He'd sent Duncan his number a couple of weeks ago, but Duncan hadn't gotten around to calling it yet. It was just... Methos had stormed out. Methos had packed up. Methos had moved on. 

Methos sent his god-damned phone number and expected Duncan to call.

Distraction was called for, and what better place than one of the VR rooms? Fastening the last tab on the suit, Duncan ran his hands over himself, checking the hookup. Stomach muscles bunched under his hands, and he could see the movement register on the feedback display. 

Good. Everything seemed to be functioning. Easing himself down onto the couch, he connected in the head's up display which let him see his customized launch pad. Many people chose libraries or bedrooms for their VR homes, but Duncan had made his look like the cabin on a ship. Everything registered green, so all he needed was to pick a skin, and then he could log in. 

His hand hesitated at the closet door, where he kept his favorites. He didn't feel like any of those today; he wanted something new and different. At the back of his mind, he could still hear Methos' comments about how hide-bound he'd become. Dani had come close to saying the same thing.

Fine then. He'd go for something a little different from his usual. Accessing the customization panel, he impulsively chose faceted dragonfly eyes and long hair, streaked with purple and gold -- only to immediately change his mind. 

The eyes just looked too weird. Instead, he thought carefully, then selected eyes that were human in shape, but colored like a sunset. He left his hair dark brown, and his skin a deep olive tone, skipping past all of the more specialized accessories like tails and wings. 

He hesitated a moment, then flicked the option to change his gender, and spent a minute playing with the female-only options. He found it was kind of fun to make himself someone he'd want to date.

His whole body tingled as the shape of the avatar was mapped onto his suit. When it was done, Duncan walked to his mirror and looked at himself in the skin, noting the way the shirt clung to his breasts, the way the wisp of plaid brushed his thighs, the way his legs looked so long in the white stockings. Duncan smiled, and a woman in a short kilt, ruffled white shirt, and pigtails smiled back at him.

Who was the stick-in-the-mud now?

* * *

Duncan listened as Fireplug and TurnedOn chattered away about old boyfriends, his mind only partially on the conversation. They seemed like good friends, regulars at the bar, using it like their local pub. The walls were a rich teak and covered with designs and artwork from 20th century India; hand-painted rice and bamboo screens separated off some smaller areas for people that wanted semi-private chats. The air was warm and heavy and clean, the way it felt right after a monsoon. Windows opened onto a tropical sunset, while ceiling fans lazily stirred the air, so there was always a breeze. It was Bollywood chic, the glitz and glamour of 1930s Hollywood reconstructed and redone, creating a fusion feel. 

Duncan had laughed and flirted and enjoyed himself for the past couple of hours, but he was winding down. He'd found a nice spot in the corner -- even in the VR world, he still wanted his back to a wall -- and ended up chatting with a couple of the regulars, who started off by giving him dirt on all of the other players, but had somehow managed to pry out of Duncan that Valentine's Day was not a good holiday for him. It made him remember all the people he missed.

A new player entered the room, scanning it briefly before turning their way. Duncan understood the puzzled look he gave them fairly well; the three of them made an odd group. Fireplug wore a furry suit, and his tiger tail kept brushing the table as he spoke, while TurnedOn was kitted out in a vampire costume, with lavender hair down to his butt, silver eyes, and enough black velvet to make a goth cry. Duncan knew he looked positively tame next to the two of them -- or any other five people in the room.

"And who's this?" The newcomer sprawled into a seat at the end of the table, nodding at Fireplug and TurnedOn. "New friend or new skin?"

"New friend." Fireplug said, bussing the guy's cheek. "Loverboy, say hello to Solstice Child."

Loverboy nodded slightly, and Duncan nodded back. The guy had a nice looking skin, not too exotic and not too tame, more middle-of-the-road than Duncan at the moment. His eyes sparked with interest, and he smiled in a way that seemed to invite Duncan in on the world's best joke. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

A beer materialized in front of him, and the guy frowned in concentration a moment until it morphed into a premium variety beer. Grinning at his own skill, he pushed the bottle in front of Duncan, then created a second one for himself. "This is a lot better than what you get with the standard environment."

He winked, and Duncan took the bottle; he could feel the cold through the fingers of his suit back in his apartment. He took a drink, and it was as if the guy had discovered the true essence of beer. Deep and rich, with malted barley and hops that tasted fresher than anything Duncan had enjoyed in years. He had every right to be proud of his programming skills if he could produce something like this on the fly.

Fireplug rolled his eyes, his tail swishing over the table. "He always does that."

Loverboy frowned, and Duncan laughed. He guessed that he was probably a forty-something man in real life, probably bi given the way he was propped up between TurnedOn and Fireplug at the moment, and that suited Duncan just fine. He'd enjoyed the attention he'd already gotten -- and had to admit that the skin he'd chosen provided some interesting sensations -- but as the night wore on, he realized that he wasn't getting what he wanted.

Fact was, he missed Methos, and the casual encounters he'd been offered weren't exactly scratching that itch. Fireplug and TurnedOn were funny, sarcastic, and outrageous, and Duncan was happy to be their audience. He'd wanted distraction, and he had to admit, the two of them were distracting.

Fireplug and TurnedOn were both shaking their heads at something Loverboy had said. 

"He sounds like a real jerk," Fireplug said, his tiger ears twitching. "How many times have you broken up with him, anyway?"

"A lot," Loverboy said ruefully. "And he's broken up with me a few times himself."

"Let me guess," TurnedOn said, eyes bright, and Duncan wondered at what kind of voice emulator program he used to get just the right bitchy, high-pitched note to imply sarcasm. "He needs his space."

"Well, we both have our own ways of doing things." Loverboy glanced over at Duncan. 

"Mine was into the latest trends." He shrugged slightly, toying with his beer. "And trends really don't work for me." Swallowing, Duncan realized the fluid level never went down. "You'd be surprised at the number of fashion disasters I have experienced first hand."

Fireplug tittered, and TurnedOn petted his arm, telling him to be quiet, but Fireplug couldn't hold back. "I can believe it, if that's something you'd wear."

Duncan ruefully laughed. "I thought I'd try something a little different tonight."

"It looks great," Loverboy said. "Don't listen to these two. They think they're auditioning for reality TV."

"I should have stuck with the male version I think." He gestured at his chest. "I've never really been able to pull this off."

Loverboy gave him a lecherous smirk. "I've always enjoyed a man in a kilt. I have a--" he stumbled, momentarily at a loss, and Duncan could see that he wasn't the only one thinking about old lovers tonight. "I have a friend who was born in Scotland, and even though he considers himself..."

His voice drifted off as he noticed the look Duncan gave him. "What?"

"I was born in Scotland."

Fireplug and TurnedOn laughed at Loverboy's flustered look. "I was trying to say that I appreciated a good kilt, that's all. Even if it's not the latest rage." He shot a condescending glance at Fireplug and TurnedOn. 

Duncan couldn't help but laugh. 

"Actually, I found it rather charming," Loverboy said quickly, staring down at his beer. "It's part of what makes him so sexy."

"So your boyfriend is sexy, is he?" TurnedOn said, perking up. "Why don't you bring him along then?"

"We'd love to meet him, " Fireplug added. He leaned over to whisper loudly at Duncan, "Loverboy here never brings anyone by." Mournfully, he looked Loverboy up and down. "Don't let him get his hooks into you. He's the love 'em and 'leave 'em type." 

Loverboy looked stunned. "Fine," he grumped back, curving around his beer. "And the next time your tail breaks, you can just wear the stump. I won't be fixing it for you."

"Oops, said the wrong thing," TurnedOn said hastily. "Ah well, I was on my way out anyway. Dan and I planned on a little direct chat before bed. Or is that in bed, Dan, hmmm?" He winked and touched Fireplug's shoulder, then the two of them vanished.

Loverboy glanced at Duncan. "They're always like that," he said fondly. "They both come here intent on 'picking someone up', and then usually end up with each other. Not always, but most of the time." He tapped his finger against the beer bottle. "I think they're the reason I keep coming back."

"You think about taking them up on their offer?" Duncan asked curiously. "Bringing your boyfriend here, I mean."

"I don't think so. First off, he's not exactly my boyfriend." His smile was rueful now, and Duncan knew that he was wishing for a real beer in a real bar. Duncan felt the same. 

"So he's...a friend?"

"Ex-lover. Maybe ex-friend. We haven't seen each other in months." Loverboy pursed his lips and looked at the detail work on the wall. "He doesn't strike me as the type to come to a place like this. I'm not sure he's tried anything beyond first person shooter games."

"Why not?"

"Like I said, he's a little old fashioned." He pulled back sharply, shaking his head, long hair spilling over his shoulders. "But it's not that. I think he loves people too much. This kind of place," Loverboy waved at the walls of the VR and the crowd of people there, "would annoy him. No real chance to get to know people, everyone in these fantasy skins, all of their faces and names hidden. He's not the anonymous type." He cleared his throat, and caught Duncan's gaze. "And what about your boyfriend, the one that you were talking to the others about?"

"Oh, he's sexy, too. Annoying as hell, but hot." Duncan leaned forward onto the table, and noticed that Loverboy couldn't help but glance at his cleavage, which was a little odd. He pegged the look as casual interest, nothing more, only to be surprised by the way the idea hooked him. "He's probably a regular here, or in one of the other environments. He likes to get lost in a crowd."

"What about you?" Loverboy nodded toward a couple that was looking their way. "You like crowds?"

"Sometimes." He arched his eyebrows. "But I'd also be interested in something a little more private."

"Well, then." Loverboy clicked the direct chat link, and the busy chat room faded; he and Duncan were alone in his studio now. The place had a very modern feel to it, but there were a couple of interesting antiques, including a high-backed rattan chair with a leopard-print throw artfully arranged.

"My ex would love a chair like that," he said, turning to look at Loverboy. "Heart of a philosopher, with the soul of an interior decorator." Duncan settled onto the couch, and he could see Loverboy tense minutely, then relax. "He had a real fascination with modern art."

"My friend liked the classics, even if they were battered, broken, and in need of restoration. He couldn't bear to throw anything away." Loverboy settled on the couch next to him, handing him a new beer; Duncan's hadn't made the transition to private chat. "Kept trying to wheedle me into working on projects with him, anything from cars to furniture repair. It felt like he had a new hobby every three months." He took a deep breath and his fingers drifted over Duncan's shoulder, which the suit translated as a warm, tingling sensation.

Real fingers would have been so much better. 

"People are my hobby," Loverboy said, moving his hand so that his fingers brushed the back of Duncan's neck.

"The way I was warned about?"

"A little. Perhaps. People are fascinating. Changeable. Never boring." His breath brushed against Duncan's neck.

Turning into him, Duncan's lips brushed against Loverboy's cheek. "What do you do when they start falling apart?"

"I find a new one." Carefully withdrawing his hand, Loverboy looked rueful. "I can't fix them." 

<i>And I can't fix me.</i> Even though he didn't say it, Duncan could hear the words clearly. TurnedOn and Fireplug hadn't been wrong, though it wasn't quite what they thought. Loverboy's devil-may-care attitude was a mask, more than the skin that he wore, covering up his fear. 

"Trying to change someone doesn't usually work out." Sometimes trying to change someone only made it worse -- people got hurt and angry, liking the way they were and hating that idea that they might need to be 'fixed'.

And Duncan knew that sometimes his attempts to change were more for himself and his need to feel useful than for them at all. He and Loverboy were a well-matched set.

Rolling the beer bottle between his hands, Duncan asked, "What would you do, if you got your friend here?"

"If he wanted to, you mean?" Loverboy stretched out his legs. "Well, I wouldn't introduce him to those two." A joke, an innuendo, an attempt to shore up his mask.

Duncan was willing to let him. He needed the change of subject as well. "You wouldn't?" he replied lightly.

"No." Loverboy shook his head. "I can think of far more interesting things to do with him if I got him alone."

Duncan's eyebrow arched as he spoke, "I thought you could do those sorts of things in real life."

"I could...if we were speaking to each other."

"Ah." Duncan stretched out his legs, brushing Loverboy's. "Sounds like my situation as well."

"Bad breakup?"

Duncan nodded. "Yes...and no. He walked out." He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees. "He does that a lot."

"Ouch." Loverboy sighed heavily. "I was on the other side of that. I was the one who walked, and I can't remember why." He tucked himself up against Duncan, and Duncan wished he could feel the pressure of it against his side, not just the simulated sensation that the jump chamber provided. He had a feeling that whoever the guy really was, Methos would like him in real life.

But in here, there was no true warmth, no real connection. He closed his eyes briefly. This wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to be resting on the couch at home, Methos leaning against him reading and drinking a beer, while Duncan sorted though whatever interminable paperwork he always got caught up in.

A far better way to spend his nights than cruising virtual reality bars. He ached for Methos' solidness and stability beside him. He needed to just go ahead and call; right now, he couldn't remember why he was being so stubborn.

When he opened his eyes, Loverboy had tucked himself more firmly against Duncan's side, and was staring down at him in puzzlement. "Looks like you got it bad for this guy."

"I--" Okay, he really didn't have a good reason. "Yeah, I do." 

"You're frightened, aren't you?" Loverboy said wonderingly. "Afraid he might not want you back."

"We didn't make any promises," Duncan said, hunching into himself. "Did you?"

"No, we made no promises either. Maybe we should."

The silence between them grew tense, and finally Loverboy growled softly at him. "I try to avoid doing the right thing."

"My, you are the pleasant person when you're in the wrong, aren't you?"

"I'm not in the wrong! He's a selfish, pig-headed, obstinate Scot--"

"And you care for him," Duncan interrupted. "I care for my pig-headed friend, too."

Their gazes caught and held, and Duncan understood that neither of them was really interested in this tonight. Both of them wanted someone else. "You should tell him."

Loverboy stood and stretched, offering his hand to help Duncan up off the couch. "Brave enough?"

Now that was the question, wasn't it? "Maybe. You?"

He sighed heavily. "I'll call him after we sign off. There's no point in both of us being pig-headed." Loverboy kissed Duncan gently on the cheek, running his hand over his chin, "Good night, Circe."

"Circe?" 

"It's not quite accurate, but I'm not feeling all that pig-headed right now." Loverboy grinned brightly and Duncan grinned back, then they both jumped away.

* * *

Duncan listened to the jump chamber disengage, blinking as he came back to himself in his apartment. Damn, that was.... "Right," he said, shaking himself and disconnecting the suit from the main system. He rolled out of the chamber and stood, his legs feeling a little bit wobbly. 

He unfastened the Velcro and peeled the suit off, glad to be back in his own body again. Having breasts had been interesting, but he was old-fashioned enough to like the way his body was naturally hung. He grabbed his sweatpants and tugged them on, before digging around the apartment, looking for Methos' phone number.

He found it stuffed in his carryall with his tablet and receipts for some supplies from his refinishing business, along with his actual, physical phone. Just as he reached for it, the phone rang loudly, startling him. 

"MacLeod." 

The voice on the other end was warm and richly familiar. Methos. "I was in town and wondered if you were interested in a late night Valentine's Day snack, Solstice Child."

"Keep talking, Loverboy. When do you want to meet?" Grinning, Duncan headed back to his bedroom to find a clean shirt.


End file.
